Alive

Do you count the endless particles in the air, breathe in the fresh scent of life, and count the soft twinkles in the bleak sky?

Do you really know what it really feels to be alive?

Is a breath, a whisper in the wind, something special, enchanting, beautiful…or is it just dust?

Do you ever find yourself thinking about what lies beneath the crust of our souls?

Do you ever wonder what mysteries roll around unsolved in the other’s brain – do you ever really think of the greedy earth, mother’s hungry mouth, feeding on the decomposing cycle of life?

I think a stone paving on the floor is evidence of labour. I think the thrashing of rain is a music of storm, the sun a great golden prize hovering in the sky – the moon a round destroyer, holes in its brain…